


Magic's Choice

by Tequila_Mockingbird



Category: The Last Herald Mage, Valdemar Series - Mercedes Lackey
Genre: Afterlife, Bittersweet, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, M/M, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-16
Updated: 2012-03-16
Packaged: 2017-11-02 00:37:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,962
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/363087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tequila_Mockingbird/pseuds/Tequila_Mockingbird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tylendel wakes up. And makes a choice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Magic's Choice

**Author's Note:**

> graciously beta'd by beverlymaldoran.

There was a murky, nebulous grey fog all about him, a bit like the one that sometimes came to Haven just before the sun rose. Tylendel looked around, with the feeling he should be remembering something; there ought to be… didn’t he recall… where was Van? Or Gala—and at the thought of her he remembered, suddenly, like a blow, everything he had done. It drove him to his knees as surely as any blow could, that memory. He knelt in the fog a moment, panting.

The fog cleared, a few moments or a few minutes later, and Gala was standing before him. Well. He knew it was Gala, in the way one knows things in dreams, but what he saw (and saw wasn’t quite the right word for it, somehow, but it would have to do…) was a woman not too much older than he was, blond and with a lopsided grin he almost recognized. “’Lendel, my own—” and the voice was the same one that had woken him from hell at the age of fourteen.

“Gala… oh, _Gala_ ,” he ran to her opened arms, clung to her as if he were twelve again and frightened. “What did I _do?_ Oh, please, tell me I didn’t, I couldn’t have—”

“Shh. Shh, my Chosen, shhh.”

He pulled away, crying now, the salt running into his mouth, “No, no, not—not your Cho—”

“Yes. My Chosen, always my Chosen.” Her arms were warm and solid around his back as he wept out confusion and shame and loss and bitter, bitter loneliness. He couldn’t say how long he had been crying—it felt like no more than a few minutes, somehow, but when he had finished he felt tired, and his eyes hurt. He lifted his head to meet Gala’s eyes—now brown instead of the blue he knew so well, but unmistakably her eyes.

“Gala, what is this? How is the possible? I _know_ I...”

She nodded. “You did, ‘Lendel. You’re dead. But because of… well…” she flushed a little. “The situation was not well handled. You shouldn’t have done what you did, but I shouldn’t have either—I wasn’t thinking too clearly, to be honest—and you shouldn’t have been left with just poor Vanyel to watch you, and the situation with Leshara should not have been allowed to escalate that far, and Savil and Jaysen should have known better than to try and dispel the Gate without grounding it first… there are so many ‘shoulds,’ dearest. Yours was only one in a series of horrible mistakes.” She drew herself up and squared her shoulders. Tylendel noticed, for the first time, that she was in Whites—as was he. “But, ‘Lendel, _because_ of the way things were mismanaged, both before your death and what’s happened since, you have… options. The Bell rang for you, you were buried in Whites, so you have the normal choices for a Herald: you can go on,” she waved vaguely toward the mist surrounding them, “to the Havens or moonpaths or Fields of Paradise or what-have-you, or you can choose to come back—as a Companion, with all of your memories of this life all the others you’ve had, or as a Herald again with no memories at all.”

Tylendel shook his head, dazed. “I’m… I’m sorry?”

She reached out and brushed her fingers across his forehead, and had a brief, dizzying glimpse of himself as _Gala’s_ Companion, when she was the Herald Jalles and wore the form he saw now, and farther back—as Landel, fourth son of poor merchants and thrilled be Chosen by Gella, of another Companion whose Herald wore a different face entirely, but was still Gala. Then it was gone, but he was left feeling older, and a little stronger, and with all kind of thoughts he’d never had time to think before floating around in his head.

“So. We’ve… we’ve done this before. And I can do this again?”

“That is the usual option. It won’t happen immediately; standard policy is a minimum of seventy or so years so that you don’t bump into too many people you knew.”

“Is that—you said something wasn’t the usual? Because of—”

“Yes.” She frowned a little in concentration. “Do you know what a lifebond is, ‘Lendel?”

He nodded slowly. “Of course, but what—”

“It’s not… well. Lifebonds are, uh, for lack of a better word, ‘intended’ to help maintain a balance: very powerful mages tend to be a little… unstable. Both because _of_ the power and because having that kind of power often makes for less than ideal childhoods; your own example is quite apt. And because of this, this imbalance, it’s often best for everyone if a powerfully magically gifted person has someone else—someone outside themselves to focus on. But these bonds are not, are not,” she seemed to be groping for a word, “aren’t _malleable_. So sometimes they, too, need to be, uh, recycled, in the same way Heralds are. Mardic and Donni, for example; although Mardic is quite powerful, the real _reason_ they lifebonded was that during the Reign of King Keilan, he was Marcay, a very powerful Herald-Mage, and Donni was her husband, Healer Donnan. And if they continue to go forward, one of them may well be powerful enough again that it’s pertinent.” Tylendel nodded. “Well, as Landel you weren’t particularly powerful: very strong Fetching, a bit of Mindspeech, Mage-Gift in potential. But in this incarnation, you had a great deal of power, and you weren’t… well, dearest, you know as well as I that there were a few problems. So…”

Tylendel froze. “Are you saying that Vanyel and I—”

“Were lifebonded, yes. A fairly strong bond, too. And, gods all curse it, this isn’t supposed to happen—he shouldn’t have outlived you, but he did. And because of yet another _stupid_ mistake, he’s had all of his Mage-Gift Potential, well, realized. In the most painful way possible.”

“What do you mean?”

“When the gate was closed improperly, the energy backlashed through him; that, combined with your suicide after channeling through him, forced all of his Gifts out of Potential and into reality. He has Mindspeech, Mage-Gift, Empathy, Fetching, Healing, Farsight, Foresight, and the Bardic Gift. And… well. This wasn’t intended, there’s no precedent… but he’s been Chosen by Yfandes.”

Tylendel shook his head in futile denial. This wasn’t possible—poor Van, who’d never understood why ‘Lenel had wanted to be a Herald.

“And ‘Lendel, he’s… he’s not taking it well. He blames himself, and a good chunk of the Circle agrees… Savil’s had to take him to the Tayledras to get him under control and away from Haven. It’s a mess, and by all rights he should have a lifebonded. He _needs_ a lifebonded.” She looked him directly, piercingly, in the eye. “He needs _his_ lifebonded. He needs you, Tylendel.”

“But there’s not—I can’t go back…?”

“No, no, not as Tylendel Frelynne. You are dead and long buried. But, because of the frankly extraordinary circumstances, you can go back rather sooner as… actually, as a Bard, I think. You won’t remember anything, but you’ll find him, eventually, and you’ll be lifebonded again.”

Tylendel blinked. “Poor Van. But—go back; does that mean I’d—”

“Be born. Yes. A child has been conceived in lower Haven to a drunk who will name him Stefen. That child will grow up to be a Bard. That child can be you, or not. It’s yours to choose, and you have time—until about the fifth month, there’s no need to rush.” She shrugged.

“The Havens?”

“Or whatever you chose.”

“And if… if I choose that. What happens to Van?”

Gala opened her arms. “I cannot say. But there is a reason for lifebonding. And although I cannot read the future any more than you can, ‘Lendel, I won’t lie to you—there are dark times in store for Valdemar, and Vanyel is going to be the strongest sword we have. We will not be able to spare him, and he will be very alone. Even if you go back.”

“But surely… there are others, he’ll find—”

She looked at him reproachfully. “Your Vanyel? The boy who hung on your every word and deed, who bound himself and his happiness so tightly with you that, I won’t lie to you, ‘Lendel, he got away from Jaysen and slit his wrists over your corpse?”

He swallowed. “Oh.”

“He’s doing better, now. He’s accepted the fact that he’s a Herald, at least, and his training is going very well. He’s got his Whites, although he’ll need more tempering to truly be ready for them.”

“What? His White’s? How long has—”

“Almost a year.”

Tylendel shook his head. “But I just got—it’s only been—”

“This is the Dreaming, ‘Lendel, and it doesn’t quite work the same way. And you’d been here longer than you know, before I arrived. This wasn’t any easy decision to make, you know, not for anyone. This sort of thing really isn’t supposed to happen.”

“Isn’t supposed to… who decides?”

“’Lendel, you know I can’t tell you that. Not unless you decide to go on.”

“But you… you know. Have you decided, then?”

She turned her head, and seemed uncomfortable for the first time. “I’ve, ah, I’ve already made my choice. Even if you choose to go back, I won’t be joining you.”

“Gala—why?”

“I made mistakes, ‘Lendel. Too many mistakes. I’ve been doing this for a long time, and I think I’m done.”

“So if I chose to go back as an ordinary Herald, as a Companion…”

“You’ll be paired with someone else. Someone new. It’s not the end of the world, Tylendel, it happens.”

“Yes, yes. I know.” And he did, he realized, vaguely, although he couldn’t quite think of how.

“There’s no need to choose hastily. As I said, you have time. A few months, if you need it.”

Tylendel inhaled, slowly, although he was getting the feeling that any ‘breathing’ he was doing was purely for the benefit of his own peace of mind. “No, I don’t think I do.”

Vanyel. Poor, sweet Van, who should have been loved and protected and made much of, who should never have had to face his horrible family, who should have always known he was beautiful. He couldn’t leave Vanyel, especially not when he could see, looking back, how brutally selfish he’d been. A choice between easing Vanyel’s path and not easing it was no choice at all.

“I’ll go back to Van. As… as Stefen. I won’t remember anything?”

“No. There might be a little bleed… but I shouldn’t worry. You’ll find him.”

Tylendel swallowed. “Goodbye, then, Gala.”

She reached out and pulled him into a hug, and he held her slim frame tightly. They’d been together, in one way and another, for almost five hundred years. They’d been a good pair, better in some cycles than in others, but they’d usually made it to a reasonable age. Died in bed, once, even. She’d been his foundation point, his light, his sister and his best friend.

“Bright the day, Tylendel Frelynne.”

“Wind to thy wings, zhaihelleva.”

‘Lendel closed his eyes and waited until the ineffable feel of her presence was gone. He was alone, in the between places. Tylendel Frelynne was gone. Stefen of Haven was next. Vanyel was next.

“Bright the day, ashke. Wait for me.”

In a grimy bar near Exile’s Gate, a woman who made her living horizontally pressed a hand to her barely-swollen stomach. She could have sworn she’d felt it kick—too early, though.

In a Tayleydras aerie south of the Pelagir Hills, Vanyel Ashkevron, newly minted Herald, stirred in his sleep. And then quieted. And dreamed of nothing at all.


End file.
